Rise of Sherlock
by Jewell Trim
Summary: It's been weeks after Sherlock's suicide and John is having a hard time dealing with it. A new threat has arise from the shadows and John is kidnapped. Will this be the end of Sherlock's sidekick, or will Sherlock grant John's wish? "Don't...be...dead."
1. Chapter 1

The man ran up the stairs leading to his house. The pursuer was on his heels. He opened the front door and attempted to shut it behind him but it was thrown back open. He scurried to his feet and ran through the hall. He knocked over the lamp trying to block the invader's path. He made his way to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He could hear the invader from the other side trying to break down the door as he frantically looked for something to use as a weapon. The door gave way, letting the intruder within spitting distance. The grabbed the air freshener and began spraying the intruder's eyes. The intruder stumbled back, rubbing his eyes. The man tried to make his way passed him but was grabbed around the neck. He struggled to get free but was in a tight pin. The invader pulled out a knife as tears rolled down the man's cheeks and he closed his eyes. With a quick movement, the blade slit across the man's neck, spurting blood onto the wall. The invader waited a minute before dropping the lifeless body onto the floor. He used the blood on the wall and wrote, "Come out and play, John Watson" with a smiley face dripping inside the 'o' in Watson.

-oOo-

It was weeks since Sherlock's suicide. Watson would walk through the house and look at all of Sherlock's things. Mrs Hudson had helped him pack up all Sherlock's belongings and were now packed in boxes near the corner of the room. The apartment looked strange with the open space. John sat down at his desk and would stare at his blog. He hadn't written since that day.

A call suddenly came in from Lestrade. John saw the id on his phone and pushed ignore. He got up from the table and was in the kitchen when he heard Mrs Hudson come in.

"Some people are here to see you. They wouldn't take no for an answer."

Lestrade walked in with sergeant Donovan.

"All the nerve coming here. After what you've done." John rushed towards Donovan. Lestrade held him back preventing him from hitting her, or worse. Donovan excused herself and after awhile John settled down, "What are you doing here. I can't be of much help and I'm not keen on doing so."

"We aren't here for your assistance," began Lestrade, "There's been a murder in Brixton, this message was found in the victim's blood." Lestrade handed a photo of the crime scene. John shook his head, "Could be any John Watson." Lestrade frowned, "This is serious John, this man's killer maybe after you next."

"I don't see the connection to me really besides my name. Thanks for the warning though."John went over and sat on the couch. He was hoping that Lestrade would catch the hint that he should leave.

"I know you're upset about Sherlock's death." Lestrade began.

John chuckled, "You knew Sherlock way before I did, but how is it that you can lose faith in him so easily after all he has done for you!" His voice rose and he began to shout, but his voice cracked at the end. Lestrade said nothing. There wasn't anything to say. With a sigh, the detective inspector left, leaving John staring at the silly hat that had been a gift from Scotland Yard a month ago. It now sat on the top in the box. John's eyes began to blur and before he knew it, he was crying. He cried himself to sleep, flashing back to Sherlock's fall.


	2. Chapter 2

In the shady part of town a well dressed lady entered a run down hotel. She climbed the steps to the third floor where she was met by suspicious looks from the two teenage boys raggedly dressed. She gave them each half a sovereign and they lead her to a room at the end of the floor. One boy gave a single knock and then entered.

"You have a visitor, sir." said the young boy, letting the woman walk in. The occupant of the chair facing the window rose up out of the chair. The tall slim figure turned towards the woman.

"Hello, Sherlock. What makes you return from the dead to seek my assistance?"

"Miss Adler, I want information on what's going on in the criminal world. Who is after John?" Sherlock turned around and faced the Woman. Miss Adler strolled to the nearest chair and sat down, "Don't you find it funny. Now you're the one who has faked their death and won't tell the one they care about that they are alive."

"John understands." said Sherlock.

"Will he? He already doesn't understand many of the things you do, and you didn't explain yourself. I'll look for your man, but only because you saved my life. After this, I don't owe you anymore favors." With that, Miss Adler left. Sherlock watched from his window as the woman disappeared into the night. Just then a boy knocked on the door and entered. He was out of breath as he handed Sherlock the letter. He opened the letter and read the contents. Sherlock grabbed the boy by his collar and held up the letter.

"Where did you get this?" he asked impatiently.

"Taped to the door of the apartment you had us watching."

Sherlock set the boy down and ushered him out the room calling after him, "Have John Watson moved."


	3. Chapter 3

John stirred in his bed. He could see Sherlock's blood on his hands. He tried to wipe the blood off of himself. He woke up to find it was a dream, but found mysterious figures in his room grabbing him. John tried to reach for his gun from under his pillow. One of the figures jammed a cloth against John's face. John tried not to breathe but gave in after his lungs burned for oxygen. He lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

-oOo-

John woke up with a start. Two boys no older than seventeen stood over him. His muscles ached as he sat up. He was resting on an old mattress laying in the corner of a run down room.

"Get up, the sir wants to see you." said the shorter of the two. John was pulled to his feet and lead up a flight of stairs. His legs went numb and they buckled. The boys helped him up the stairs and down the end of the hallway. John was lead inside and they shut the door behind him.

The room was bare except for two chairs and a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. John noticed a dark figure lurking in the shadows and he shook his head in disbelief when the figure stepped into the light. There standing before him like a ghost was Sherlock. He felt as if he touched him then he would vanish.

"Hello, John."

"It can't be, I saw you die." protested John.

"Well I can prove it to you that I'm real even though it's not important. I can tell that you haven't slept much. You've lost five pounds but never exercised. You've been skipping meals. Kind of funny considering you always lectured me on skipping meals."

John gave a laugh then lunged at Sherlock, pushing him against the wall.

"Three weeks, three weeks you've been alive and you didn't say anything. You couldn't at least text me that you were alive." John felt tears run down his cheeks. He hid his face in Sherlock's scarf so the detective wouldn't see.

"John, I don't have time to explain why or what I've been doing since. There has been chatter going around and your name has come up in those conversations."

"So we're going to ignore this whole missing for three weeks?" asked John.

"I was on vacation." said Sherlock. He signaled and a man came in.

John felt a rush of anger. Sherlock was so dense for a genius, "Since when do you go on vacation by faking your death and making the country believe you were a liar and a fake?"

Sherlock didn't seem to hear John's question and was exchanging something with the man that he couldn't see. He then turned back to John, "You're right, I should have handled that better. We can talk about how angry you are later. I need step out for a bit, you already heard about the man in Brixton. Lestrade informed you the other day. My homeless network tells me what's going on in the world."

John gave a sigh, "You want me to come?"

"No, I need you to stay here. If they are targeting you then you need to stay hidden."

"If you think you're going to go without me-" John didn't finish his sentence. Sherlock turned around and punched John out cold. He used the restraints that he had gotten earlier while John was talking and bound John's hands behind his back.

"Sorry, John, but where I go, you can't come with me."


	4. Chapter 4

John jerked up and found that he was back in the room with the mattress. He blinked a couple times to gather his senses. He to a sitting position. John began to wiggle his arms underneath his legs and eventually got his hands from behind his back. He never felt so thankful he hadn't had long legs until now. A plate of food was left by the door. He made an attempt to open the door but it was locked. He scanned the room for another exit. There were no windows or vents to be used. He went to the wall and began tapping it. He found a spot where the wallpaper was warped. John looked for something to use to peel it back. He eyed the plate and noticed there was a plastic knife. Grabbing the knife, John peeled back the wallpaper to reveal a golf size hole that had been covered up. John tore at the wall, making the hole bigger. He used his elbow to smash through old boards.

Voices from the hall began growing louder as he heard foot steps. The hole wasn't nearly big enough for him. He stepped back, and with a violent kick the boards broke, giving him a hole barely big enough for him to squeeze through. The broken ends of the boards gave him tiny splinters he couldn't see as he fell into a dimly lit room. He landed on his shoulder and it felt dislocated but he couldn't relocate with his hands still bound. He gave a groan and his breathing became to quicken. He got to his feet and turned the handle to the door. It opened. He heard voices yelling, "He's escaped. Find him!"

John ran down the hall and the stairs, nearly falling down when a stair gave way and broke. He made his way to the ground level and onto the street. He heard the sound of thundering footsteps behind him. He signaled a passing cab and hopped in, telling the driver to go.

-oOo-

Molly Hopper was working the early shift at the morgue when Sherlock came in. She hid her smile by turning away. Sherlock walked passed her to the body found at Brixton. He scanned the body before pulling out his magnifying glass to examine the knife wound closer. There wasn't much to go on. There were bruises around the neck, a sign of being held there just before he was killed. He then looked at the clothes that the man had been wearing. He had worn a gray work shirt and dark gray pants. He went back to the body and examined the hands. They had hints of grime, possibly oil. The victim tried to wipe it off but with a dirty towel. Sherlock slipped on a plastic glove and ran his fingers over the victim's and brought his hand to his nose. It was from cars. The man had been a mechanic and was at work prior to his demise. He checked his phone for car shops in Brixton within walking distance to the crime scene. Three came up. He had to narrow it down. He went back to the clothes. Sherlock searched for ones that had workers who wore gray uniforms. He gave a smile and headed towards the door. Molly addressed him, "Have you told him, why you faked your death and didn't tell him."

Sherlock had forgotten Molly was there and he made a mental note to do something to thank her for helping fake his death. He had said thank you before, but John always said that giving a gift also helps. The question Molly asked hadn't really occurred to him that John might be upset for not knowing why.

"He doesn't need to know what doesn't hurt him." Sherlock then left before Molly could reply.

"But it did hurt him, Sherlock."


	5. Chapter 5

John reached the apartment and climbed out the cab. He asked the driver to wait so he could get his wallet from the apartment. He went up the stairs and opened the door. Going into the back where his room was at, he went to his desk and was about to grab his wallet when a heavy object hit him on the back of his head. John was carried out of the apartment and helped into the car waiting on the street. The cabi who was waiting for John, watched as he was carried out. The cabi muttered under his breath when the boys from earlier ran up to the door and rang the bell.

"You won't find him there ." said the cabi.

"You were his cabi? Do you know where he is?"

"Only just left about a couple minutes maybe. He was with some men. That gentleman owes me." The boys looked at each other checked their pockets.

-oOo-

Sherlock received a text from the boys who were in charge of watching the doctor. He was on his way to Brixton but ordered for the driver to turn the cab around. Sherlock was dressed as a beggar and when the cab stopped outside the apartment he quickly paid and climbed up the stairs, skipping a step as he went. The boys were standing in the apartment crestfallen. He looked around the apartment as if searching for something specifically. He went into John's room and began to search around the bed and desk. John's phone was on his desk and Sherlock found John's wallet under his bed almost out of view. Sherlock searched John's phone for the call history. The only recent call was from Lestrade. Sherlock pressed redial and he let it ring. Lestrade picked up on the other end, "John, I was just getting ready to call you. I'm sorry about the other day, you were right about Sherlock, I did lose faith. You're a better friend than I am. I will keep you updated on the case on Brixton."

Sherlock hung up. So John had known about the case at Brixton and somehow John was linked to it. He had to get over to Brixton. Sherlock looked closer at the ground and noticed dark marks left in the carpet. He bent down and could smell the hint of gasoline. He pulled out his magnifying glass and took a closer look. Gravel stones were near the door in the footprints left behind. He tried to think of locations that had both gravel stones and gasoline present. Thinking of how it tied in with the Brixton murder. Narrowing down possibilities would take time that John didn't have.


	6. Chapter 6

John woke and found a man looming over him. He was roughly helped up to his feet. His hands were still bond from when Sherlock had put them on. A man stood in front of him wearing a suit. When he spoke, he had a heavy accent, "Well, Dr Watson. I'm glad you accepted my invitation. There has been some news that has reached me that your companion is no longer with us. I find that hard to believe, so I brought you here so that you can tell me where your friend is hiding."

John shook his head, "Sherlock is dead, I saw him fall."

The man looked down at the floor and wiped the edges of his mouth, "I think you know more than you're letting on. You've met my acquaintance, Moriarty, no?" Well I taught him everything he knew. Your friend, I understand was the reason he is dead. And what is a teacher if they do not have a student? I find your friend, Sherlock, a great student. So imagine my anger when I heard he had committed suicide."

John shifted in his seat. He needed to find a way of escape.

The man continued, "Now when an owner has a dog and the owner dies, the only right thing to do is to put it down."

Some men pulled out their guns and dug them into John's sides. Another man lowered a crane hook and put John's bounded hands on it. John dangled just above ground level. His breathing quickened and he tried to lift up so he could yell, but his dislocated shoulder didn't enable him too.

"Now doctor, all I need to know is if Sherlock is really dead. If I think you're lying then I will kill you slowly. If he is truly dead then I will put you out of your misery." John opened his mouth, but he couldn't form any words. He was only able to gasp breaths of air. "Lower him. He won't be of any use to me if he's dead." John was lowered to the ground and was breathless for a moment.

"Is Sherlock dead or alive, doctor." the man was getting impatient and the crane lifted him back in the air, higher than before. John felt his spine ache and his arms burn. John saw a flicker of light appeared and it seemed to be moving towards them. John heard a man's scream and he tried to catch a glimpse of what was going on below him. He saw a man in a blaze of fire. The other man looked around searching for the source. John, using all of the rest of his strength, kicked the gun out of the man's hand into the darkness. The man in the suit watched the spectacle with a glimmer of amusement.

The crane dropped suddenly and he fell to the ground groaning. He struggled to his feet and a hand reached out and helped him up. He found himself staring into Sherlock's eyes. When John was to his feet Sherlock turned to face the man in the suit who was still smiling.

"Well, you were looking for me. I'm here now. You didn't have to involve John in this."

"Yes I did. How else was I to get your attention."

"You killed that man in Brixton."said Sherlock.

The man gave a grin, "I don't like to get my hands dirty. Moriarty who you've met might consider himself the consulting criminal. However I am the crime lord. There are many more consulting criminals around the world as we speak under my command. You pride yourself as being the great consulting detective, but your just a boy scout. I'm sure you heard my conversation with the doctor. I'll be in touch, Mr Holmes."

He gave a wave and walked out. The other men had disappeared with the man in the dark. Sherlock watched them leave and when he was sure they were gone, he turned back to Watson. He pulled out the key to the cuffs and unlocked them. John groaned and he rotated his arm until his shoulder went back in place and John let out a sigh.

"Are you alright?" asked Sherlock looking John over. John confirmed that he was fine and Sherlock calmed down.

"What just happened, Sherlock?" asked John. Sherlock didn't answer. "Are you going back into hiding?"

"No, I think it's time I come back." Sherlock said with a smile. John smiled and they both began to laugh, but John's was cut short by a coughing fit. Sherlock helped John outside of the old car shop. John looked around.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Sherlock signaled for a cab, "Brixton, near the man's house who was murdered.


	7. Chapter 7

"So you never explained to me how you found me?" asked John, helping Sherlock unpack the last of his things. Sherlock flung himself onto his chair in his favorite housecoat, "The man killed in Brixton was working for the man who ordered your kidnapping. I found car oil on his hands. He didn't own a car himself which meant he worked at a car shop near his house. His uniform narrowed the search. The gravel and scent of gas was found on the body, same as the kind found in our apartment when you were kidnapped. I surmised that the victim was killed by one of his comrades because he was a rat. Apparently he knew who you were, something about serving with you in Afghanistan."

"So that was you who set the man on fire?" asked John in some disbelief.

"He is perfectly fine. The gasoline on his clothes and shoes probably will leave him with first or second degree burns."

John shook his head, "I can never understand how you get all of that. Are you going back to being consulting detective?" asked John throwing Sherlock the hat. Sherlock caught it just before it hit him. He put it on and gave a grin, "For now, under the radar."

John gave a laugh, "I can't take you seriously in that hat." They both laughed and Sherlock threw the hat aside. "Where's my phone and wallet anyway?"

Sherlock looked in his pockets , "When did you lose it?"

"Last week when I was kidnapped. I didn't have it on me though and it isn't in my room."

"Oh that, it was in my pocket then. I don't know where I put it since then."

"I'll go cancel the cards." said John grabbing his jacket. He opened the door and turned around, "I'm glad you're not dead." Going down the stairs he shouted back,"Even if you lose my things."

**Thank you for reading my first story, I hope to write the next episode soon. So please be patient with me.**


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